Stars
by chinocoop81
Summary: Ryan told Marissa he loved her five times, but she only heard him twice. RM one shot.


The first time Ryan told Marissa he loved her it was passion. It was running up the stairs, barely able to breathe, rushing against traffic, explosive beating of the heart.

When he saw her, when their eyes locked, it was truth. It was home. It was connection.

The confetti fell around their bodies, and the crowd seemed to part for him, the universe's way of telling him this was right. This was where he belonged, right here, walking toward her.

His lips found hers, and she gave him the air he'd lacked. It was sustenance. It was life. It was _love_. This, he realized, was _love_. And it wasn't scary. It wasn't intimidating. It just _was_. He just _felt_.

He pulled back, his breaths uneven, his chest heaving. "I love you," he said, three words. It was only three words, but they were momentous. This was pivotal. This was sincerity.

"What?" She blinked, and he knew she thought she'd imagined it. That these words were an illusion, and this was a mirage, and he wasn't really here and she was standing alone and all the cheers around was her own breaking heart.

But this love was reality, and he was sorry, and his smile fell away as he stared at her because this was the truth. He loved her. A part of him had always loved her. _Would_ always love her. "I love you."

Her smile was serenity. Her eyes were stars. "Thank you."

XXXXX

The second time Ryan told Marissa he loved her it was sadness. It was goodbye. It was driving away in a yellow car from this orange place leaving the only happiness he'd ever known.

Her eyes were trenches, and inside her was emptiness, and he knew this as he drove farther and farther away. He wanted to stop the car. He wanted to run back. He wanted the adrenaline, wanted the stairs and the confetti and the stars in her eyes, but all he had was this baby growing inside of Theresa. And it would have to be enough. This sadness would always have to be enough.

He turned to see her, watched her fade away. Thought, maybe she had always just been an illusion, and this feeling in his chest was his reality and this whole life he'd created was fantasy. Chino was his reality. Bleakness was his fate.

He remembered her in his arms earlier that day, her understanding and sympathy and _love_. And it broke him inside. Ryan Atwood was doomed to be broken forever, it seemed.

As she disappeared from view, he murmured, "I love you." And it was the drop of a fallen angel.

Theresa, driving, heard him, but remained silent, her own tears forming.

XXXXX

The third time Ryan told Marissa he loved her it was gratitude. It was shaking, the whir of the fan by his bed, the inability to wash his brother's blood from his hands five hand-washings and a shower later.

It was a bruised face and body staring down at this sleeping girl, his savior, maybe even his guardian angel if he believed in such things. Sometimes, looking at her, he thinks he might.

And for that moment, it didn't matter that his brother was in the hospital, or that she had almost been split apart by Trey on some dark beach. It didn't matter because her breaths were reminders and her warmth was reassurance and her body was glass of the most beautiful kind. Fragile, breakable, but stunning with light shining through.

He wanted to wake her because he wanted to hold her and hear her voice and see her smile and those stars and feel her heart beat next to his. He wanted connection. He wanted hope.

But staring down at her sleeping despite their night and despite the blood on both of their hands that just wouldn't fade away, he thinks he's found it. Hope. Connection. Love.

And maybe tomorrow, he won't feel this way, and the world will catch up next to them, and maybe they will drift apart. He didn't know about the future. He didn't care.

Because right now she was here and she was sleeping in his bed, her eyes fluttering with what he hoped were good dreams. And he was here, right next to her. And it was all because she had _saved _him. Marissa Cooper had saved _him_.

He climbed into bed, drops from his wet hair hitting the pillow as he whispered, "I love you." And it was gratitude. For everything. For saving him. In so many ways.

XXXXX

The fourth time Ryan told Marissa he loved her it was intimacy. It was sweaty bodies pressed against each other, fingers digging into his back, moans filling the quiet salty sea air.

Once again, it was almost goodbye. But it wasn't sadness because she wasn't leaving. It was fighting the morning. It was prolonging the goodbye. It was holding onto each other, creating their own little world.

He'd had sex before. He'd seen naked bodies, had moved inside of women, had shuddered as they called his name.

But he had _never _had this before. Even with Theresa. Even with Lindsay. Even with every girl he'd convinced himself he actually cared for. Because he'd only been in love once. And _this _– _this_ was different.

Marissa's fingers pressed into his back just a little bit harder, and he pushed into her just a little bit farther, and they both lost it at the same time. Wave after wave after wave.

He collapsed next to her, not wanting to crush her. He'd never cared with any other girl before. Now, she was all he cared about. He couldn't say it. He couldn't speak the words aloud, could not tell her much of anything at all sometimes, but he would die protecting her.

He'd almost done it before.

Holding her body against his, needing the contact, he closed his eyes and rested his forehead against her bare shoulder. He could feel the stickiness and heat from her body. He could hear her struggle for breath.

"I love you," he whispered. Not said, not proclaimed, but _whispered_. Three words, and she hadn't heard them in so long that they brought tears to her eyes. Her stars become puddles.

"I love you too," she whispered back. He lifted his eyes to hers, and this intimacy wasn't about sex. It wasn't about being naked with this absolutely amazing girl. It wasn't about saying goodbye or fighting for each other or making this the perfect night.

It was his soul. And it was her soul. And it was letting each other see into them.

Keeping his eyes open, he kissed her.

XXXXX

The fifth and last time Ryan told Marissa he loved her it was truth. It was realization. It was holding her sleeping body against his own, lack of clothes, lack of protection, lack of fear.

It was three in the morning, and he was supposed to be on a boat in the middle of the ocean. Or he thought he was supposed to. Except, now he realized he had never belonged anywhere else than right here.

It had taken him two years to realize how much he absolutely loved this one girl. Because every single time he had said those eight letters, it held a meaning, but never _this _meaning. Never _this _realization. Never _this _truth. He had never realized how overwhelming and breathtaking love was until this very moment.

He loved Marissa Cooper. He had no idea what he'd do about school or if he'd get into college or if he'd get over this gnawing guilt about his brother or his bad dreams about his father or where he would be this time next year. But he knew with absolute certainty that he loved this one girl, and that was enough.

_I don't know what my future is, but I know it's with you._

_My life just doesn't work without you._

Burying his face into hair that smelled of vanilla, he quietly said, "I love you." And even though he knew she couldn't hear him, he knew on some level she just _knew_. Maybe she'd wake up and just feel it pouring all over her.

He kissed her bare shoulder, his breath tickling her skin. Slowly, she stirred, smiling even before she opened her eyes.

She turned to him, and her eyes were stars.

XXXXX

**A/N I'm in the middle of my oneshot about Ryan seeing Marissa at the airport (okay, more like 1/3 of the way finished cause it's freaking long), but tonight I was feeling sad and I wanted to write and so I decided to write this. I don't think a lot of people have seen or read my new post of FTM yet, so if you haven't…now you know.**

**Read, review, and enjoy!**


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